


our last (best) year

by Randomprojects



Category: 2.43 清陰高校男子バレー部 | 2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu (Anime)
Genre: Gen, Missing Scene, technically the Odaoki is one-sided?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:22:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29958162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Randomprojects/pseuds/Randomprojects
Summary: "Is that okay with you, Aoki?"Oda decides to put himself on reserve; Aoki is less than pleased at this turn of events. (Missing scene from ep 7)
Relationships: Aoki Misao/Oda Shinichiro
Kudos: 16





	our last (best) year

**Author's Note:**

> so remember how Oda said "If it's okay with you" to Aoki in ep 7 after Chika's suggestion of swapping Oda out for Uchimura? yeah. i got feelings about that
> 
> characterization and interpretation of their relationship based heavily on [the first 2.43 book](https://seiin-translations.tumblr.com/post/636364394978246656/243-novel-translation-index).

Oda didn’t take long to make his decision, once he and Aoki had finished speaking with Uchimura regarding Haijima’s suggestion.

“Uchimura will do well,” Oda said confidently as he filled out the paperwork for the Spring Tournament preliminaries, scratching his own name alongside Hokao’s under ‘Reserves’ on the team roster. “Especially if we keep on track with the training plan Haijima proposed.”

"You know I don’t agree with this," Aoki’s voice, in contrast, was tight with simmering indignation. He’d been in a bad mood ever since the tense confrontation by the stairwell before practice; sure, he had kept a lid on it when Uchimura was around, but he had no qualms about making his displeasure known when it was just the two of them. "Haijima had no right to _ambush_ you like that in front of the whole team—" 

“C’mon, Aoki,” Oda set his pen down with a sigh. "I also know that _you_ know he wasn't being malicious."

Aoki scoffed. "Sure,” he finally conceded reluctantly after an uncomfortable beat, “But rude behavior is still rude, no matter the intent.” 

God, why is this happening. "Rude or not, you know he's right.” Oda pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d be lying if he said Haijima’s words didn’t sting, but that’s just the way he speaks; he loves the sport to death, and has no respect for those who only care about personal glory in the game.

( _E_ _asy for him to say. Some people have all the luck, huh?_

 _Shut up,_ Oda told himself.)

Anyway, it’s clear the kid just wants the best for the team. All Haijima wants is to maximize their chances—and by extension Oda’s—of competing in the actual Spring Tournament. Of keeping them in the running for one more match, one more set, one more serve, clawing their way ahead for even just another second on the court. 

And if the only thing in exchange for a chance to stand on the center court is Oda’s personal pride, how could he possibly begrudge that? “Look,” he said, “I'm not interested in being a sitting duck for Fukuhou, and it’s not like we can just brute force our way through the disadvantage of my height." 

“Alright Shin, have it your way.” Aoki shrugged, "... But even if we stuck with our old lineup, I'm sure we would’ve figured out something else by the time we play against them." 

It was Oda’s turn to scoff. “You and I _both_ know there isn't a 'something else'—just let it go!” He snapped, taking a step forward into Aoki’s personal space, glaring up at him. “ _Why_ are we even arguing about this? Are you just—” 

His voice cracked, and because he is a coward he didn’t finish with the question burning on the tip of his tongue: _Are you just pitying me, Aoki?_ It hurt, knowing Fukuhou had written him off as a weakness to be exploited against his team, and knowing there was nothing he could do about it. _Am I so pathetic that you’re afraid something like this would break me?_

“'Am I just'…?” Aoki’s voice was so, so gentle, even though they had been fighting. “Hey, Shin—”

(It's going to be okay. It's just for the preliminaries, not forever; he could endure sitting on the bench.

But it _would_ break him, if he were to get confirmation that Aoki made such a fuss over something like this out of pity. So maybe it was better that he didn't manage to ask.)

Suddenly, looking at Aoki was unbearable—which was why Oda wrenched his gaze away from the other’s face to the floor, taking a step back. “Sorry, never mind that last bit.” He shook his head: _Get a fucking grip_. “Still, you know Haijima’s right.”

For a moment it looked like Aoki was going to finish what he was about to say—but he sighed instead, the tension draining out of him. “Yeah, you’re right,” he rubbed the back of his neck apologetically. “Sorry for blowing this out of proportion… You know I’ll always follow your lead. Besides,” he shrugged again, “Haijima would never have put you on reserve if he thought there was a way around the targeted attacks.” 

“Yeah, well.” Now that Aoki had backed down, just like all the other times they’ve fought, a part of Oda wanted to sag in relief. He’ll never get used to fighting with Aoki—it’s rare that they don’t get along with each other, rarer still when Aoki would cling to an argument that he knew was wrong instead of discarding it immediately. “Make it up to Haijima, okay?” He looked up. “You know he’s a good kid.” 

“Yes, yes, of course. No plans to defy the captain’s orders just yet.” Aoki made an amused noise at the back of his throat that didn’t match the solemn expression on his face at all. “But I do want to make one thing clear.”

 _Oh, this is serious._ “... What is it?” 

“Whatever you were about to say just now…” This time it was Aoki who looked away, eyes up on the ceiling, before snapping his gaze back down to Oda’s. “It’s not like that. I wasn’t feeling sorry for you, or whatever you were thinking.” He barreled past Oda’s sharp gasp at the words, “I’m sorry I made you think otherwise.” 

“How—”

“Ah, so I was on the right track.” Aoki said, smooth voice heavy with the weight of a thousand things unsaid. “Shin, listen to me: if it was mere pity, it would've burned out long ago.” He shook his head, thin lips twisted in a wry smile once more. “Like I told you before, I’m driven by my ulterior motives.”

“I—” Oda swallowed. “I still don’t know what you mean by that.” _Can’t you just tell me?_

Aoki shifted, and they were no longer facing each other. “That’s alright.” he said, like he always did, and it was just as infuriating as the last time he said it. “Just know that, more than anyone else, you deserved to play on the court.” The curve on his lips deepened, just a little. “Then again, you’ll stand on the Spring Tournament center court soon enough.”

“ _We’ll_ stand on the center court,” Oda corrected him, “The whole team. If we get past the preliminaries.”

“Well, looks like we better do that then.”

"Yeah." They stood together in companionable silence for a few breaths, then—“Aoki.”

"Hmm?"

“What did you mean, when you say you have ‘ulterior motives’?”

“Oh, that.” Aoki said mildly. “It’s nothing important, don't worry about it.”

“Aoki,” Oda said, equally mild, “Cut the bullshit.”

Aoki hummed, closing his eyes in resignation. “... I’m not going to continue with volleyball once we graduate. Sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Oda couldn’t help the bittersweet lurch at the admission, even though it hadn’t been a surprise at all. “And to be honest, I kinda figured this is it for you.”

“Right, well…” Aoki opened his eyes. “I just want you to know that these last few years on the team is something I’ll hold onto for a long time.” His voice was warm with sincerity and satisfaction, “Thank you for inviting me to tag along back then. I definitely don’t regret all the time we spent playing together.”

High praise, coming from Aoki. “Man, you sound like you’re on your deathbed,” Oda grumbled, feeling the tell-tale prickle of tears at the corner of his eyes. “And hey, for what it’s worth… me too. Thanks for sticking with this despite being lukewarm on sports.” He wiped his eyes roughly with a wobbly laugh. _What a day._ “I hadn’t planned on crying in the club office today, geez.”

“Yeah, it’s too early for that.” Aoki said, still open, still gentle, “Let’s save the waterworks for the center court after we win.”

"After we win, huh?" Oda grinned up at him. "I like the sound of that."

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to chat about 2.43 or Oda/Aoki (Odaoki?) with me: [tumblr](https://randomidiocyncrazies.tumblr.com/tagged/2.43) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/wearyNiteowl)
> 
> honestly, i wrote this bc i couldn't stop thinking about the question Oda asked. Oda certainly isn't passive-aggressive, but my interpretation of that moment was that it's a (slight) rebuke at how annoyed/upset Aoki was being on behalf of him. 
> 
> plus i wanted them to have an opportunity to get what they really think out in the open, though this doesn't uh actually happen in the fic (oops.) Aoki walks a fine line between openly showing the depth of his regard for Oda and using those super deflection skills, so this is probably the closest it's gonna get for now...


End file.
